


Est Sularus oth Mithas

by SilverGlass83



Series: Under the Light of the Three Moons [2]
Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Description of a Battlefield, Dragonrider, Gen, Honor or Duty?, Knights of Solamnia, Knights of Takhisis, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, blood and death, description of war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverGlass83/pseuds/SilverGlass83
Summary: “Est Sularus oth Mithas...”Once the words brought you pride. Once they were your litany, your paean.Now the phrase has become a dirge in your ears, a hollow lamentation...What are you even fighting for?
Series: Under the Light of the Three Moons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984229
Kudos: 2





	Est Sularus oth Mithas

***

What is left of the battlefield spirals below you as you rush downward towards the carnage in a seemingly uncontrolled free-fall.

“Est Sularus oth Mithas...” you whisper, despite the fact some would say that you are unworthy to say the words. You speak them still, knowing that once, when you were young, they held a different meaning.

Est Sularus oth Mithas: My Honor is My Life.

Once the words brought you pride. Once they were your litany, your paean.

But now the phrase has become a dirge in your ears, a hollow lamentation.

The words don't hold the same meaning anymore...

What are you even fighting for?

Sprawled across the ground are the corpses of countless beings, scattered amongst each other as if washed up on some terrible tide of crimson blood. You have comrades down there - friends and allies, brothers and sisters in arms - now all lost to you.

As you fall, you hold no remorse for what you had to do today; for those you killed and for the purpose you now fight for. Leading the charge that resulted in the deaths of hundreds was your duty. Though, in your heart, you know that there was no honor in this butcherous act.

But what is honor, you think to yourself as your eyes take in the countless broken forms below you, their blood soaking into the half frozen wasteland, what is honor but blind faith in something beyond you? Is this what defines your life?

Did these dead beings die for honor... or duty?

Your dragon suddenly banks over the carnage, unfurling her wings to slow your descent in a stunning display of strength - a mastery of reflex and control. The pull of varying forces against your insides makes your head spin for a breath as the two of you level out before continuing on to find a landing spot.

She's a dramatic thing, your mount; young and eager to show her power and courage. She did well in the fight today and you are proud to have the privilege to ride into battle with her, so you let her vent her pleasure in such a dangerous aerobatic display. After all, you never could have dreamed to have come as far as you have, and so you share in the same thrill as her – if only for a moment.

Slowly the two of you descend in a careful, if somewhat lazy, arc as she uses the air currents to guide you both from the sky.

From your vantage point between her wings you can't help but see the remains of other dragons - both chromatic and metallic - lying amongst the smaller figures. Their scales glitter in the dying light of the sun. You see many blue and red, but also silver and bronze and one or two gold – a macabre rainbow of sparkling light bathed in dried blood. The smaller bodies are less noticeable, mere twigs by comparison, but you see them still.

Knights of Solamnia, dead beside the differing soldiers of Takhisis: all of them, toy soldiers in tin armor, forever bed-mates in death alongside goblins and draconians and the other riffraff her Dark Majesty has called to do her bidding.

The two of you land in an area of the battlefield that is somewhat clear of gore. For a moment, the stench of blood and excrement almost overwhelms you, but discipline keeps you from gagging as you dismount. You may think it bad now, but experience has you know better, for the stink will only get worse once the sun rises tomorrow and the temperature climbs, causing the bodies to bloat and invite carrion to come feast.

Your dragon also reacts to the stench, albeit in a different way than you. Her snort is not one of disapproval, but of victory over her enemies. She is a creature who hunts to survive, eats meat and blood, so the smell is not so revolting to her reptilian senses. Above that, though, she is also a creature of battle, the song of magic runs in her veins, and you know from your time together that she finds a thrill to war and strategy.

For her, today was a glorious day and a thunderous blow to 'the other side'.

But for you, today stirs up old memories, old feelings you thought to have buried long ago.

She lifts her great head as your boots hit the blood-crusted ground and turns north as a blast of trumpet call echoes through the air, coming from where the rest of your forces have already gathered at the base of the far off mountains. The army you follow has already continued its march.

There is no time to bury the dead. But before you join your comrades you want just one moment to pay your respects to the honored fallen before you continue on. Your dragon does not understand why you insist on going through this strange ritual after every battle. But she has come to trust you, to respect you, if only because she admires your bravery.

As if by fate or some strange, twisted design, your eyes are drawn to two soldiers locked together in death: A gallant knight of Solamnia, his silver armor dented, lays dead with his sword through the heart of his foe – a footsoldier clad in the scales of the blue dragon army, his own broken lance thrust through the knight's throat.

Their faces are almost... sad in death.

But it is their resemblance to each other that strikes you most.

So alike are they that the kinship between them is obvious, as is the reason for the lingering expressions on their faces.

Brothers, you realize, caught on opposing sides, taken from the world and the rest of their family because of the choices they had made, of the paths they each followed.

Are you so different?

If not for circumstances of your birth and the rigid structure of the Knights of Solamnia, you may one day rise to be as high as this dead knight at your feet – you may have, one day, worn the rose upon your breast as part of that Order.

Or, by contrast, if not for your own tenacity and cunning and drive, you may have been left behind - still be nothing but a footsoldier like the one speared by his kin - yet one more nameless wretch amongst the dead, used as fodder.

Still, no matter what side you perhaps would have otherwise found yourself on, you know in your soul that you would always have been torn by this endless, inner struggle you face.

The choices you made in your life have never been easy. But made them you did, and here you stand, alive while others fell around you – either by your blade or by those of your enemies.

Regardless, it's your duty to fight against the enemies of your god, even when those foes are hopelessly outmatched, even if they could be kin or friend from bygone days.

Est Sularus oth Mithas... My honor is my life...

Are these types of acts honorable? Is this what your life is now?

It's questions like this that clearly tell you why the victory today is a sour one. And this is why you yet again war with your 'duty' and this inner sense of 'honor'.

This is why that word, that phrase, keeps echoing through your head.

For there was no honor in what happened today.

Only war.

Only bloodshed.

Only hate and death.

And certainly, this has become your life.

There was no honor today, you shake your head as you gaze upon the cold faces of the brothers at your feet - the representation of the choices and struggle inside your soul. And so the ancient words of your homeland, of those that are your heritage - 'Est Sularus oth Mithas' - ring hollow within you.

This death around, this loss of life, was the consequence of duty.

 _'Which side am I really on?'_ you ask yourself as you take in the carnage of broken bodies and wonder what choices they had made that led them to this battlefield, of what sense of duty and honor they held and if they too, questioned.

As a child, you knew you wanted to be like the knight at your feet, but through circumstances beyond your control, you started out on a path like that of the foot soldier. However, unlike the dead brother, you clawed and fought and rose – beyond bloodlines and casts and rigid structures – to become the person you are today.

A Dragonrider.

You know that you are one of the few chosen to ride the ancient creation of the gods. You feel pride swell in your breast as your dragon fans her wings impatiently, eager to join your forces and continue the fight.

Slowly, you kneel down and close each of the brothers eyes. You wonder if, perhaps, you are distantly related to them in some way, if that was why your eyes were drawn to them first.

No matter. They are dead, and you are not.

Reaching out, you tear a piece from each of their cloaks, making sure to get some of the embroidery adorning the knights'. Adding the swatches to the others within the leather bag on your hip, you stand and let your gaze sweep along the sea of faces that will all too soon be forgotten.

“We are summoned,” your mount says suddenly, her voice slithering through your head due to the connection you share as mount and rider as much as you hear the verbal words with your ears.

You turn to her and find that her eyes are gleaming in that way you know she is hearing the call from a higher power, the one that you both follow. But, for a moment, you wonder why you do not hear the same call in your heart the way she does...

The disturbing thoughts are drowned out by a low rumble of thunder. You raise your eyes to the horizon, to the towering peaks of the Khalkist Mountains and beyond where you know Neraka lays.

And then it dawns on you, for good or ill, that your destiny and that which you fight for will live or die in that dark valley. You may feel as though you lost your honor in the previous battle this day, but _there_ , you know it will be found once more.

But still.... what is it that you fight for?

Is that type of honor what defines your life, what compels you to duty?

“ _ **Come now, my child.”**_ You finally hear the voice that beckons your dragon and you fall to your knee and pay homage. _**“Come and be at peace with yourself. Your faith in me is not blind. Serve me. Honor me. Fight for me. Do your duty for**_ **me** _ **and you shall be forever loved, blessed child of mine...”**_

It is as if you feel your god caress you gently, the touch is feather light but brings strength and courage to your heart and limbs. You rise, hoping to catch a glimpse of your god, but you are still surrounded by the dead.

Thunder rolls over the mountains again, beckoning.

So be it.

It is not just honor that is your life, your heritage, you suddenly realize as calm washes over you after hearing the voice of your god, but _also_ duty.

And you will do your duty!

You give the brothers one final glance before you return to your dragon. You resolve to carry their faces, two sides of the same coin, representations of both sides of your inner struggle, into this coming battle.

It doesn't matter where you were born or how you grew up. It doesn't matter which side you fight on. You've chosen your path, given yourself to your cause.

For it is an honor to do so!

This is your life.

Climbing once more onto the back of your mount, you settle into the saddle and harness. Patting the dragon on her neck as a silent signal that you are ready, she leaps into the darkening sky without a moment's hesitation.

The two of you sail through the air, the last rays of sunlight flash on her vibrant blue scales, diffuse through the delicate membrane of her wings, and sparkle on your blue Dragonrider armor.

“Est Sularus oth Mithas!” you yell as you leave the field of dead behind.

It may be the Oath of the Knights of Solamnia but now you say it in defiance to those who never would have accepted you, who never gave you the chance to prove your worth to them to join their ranks. To them, your blood was too dilute to ever be anything than a lowly soldier. Their prideful ways would never have looked beyond that fact to see how you venerated honor and duty above anything else.

Only your goddess did that.

She saw your worth and welcomed your blade. For her you live your life, balancing both duty and honor.

“For Takhisis!” you cry and it is echoed by the shrill roar of your dragon as well as the thundering boom of the far off storm. Excitement and joy fills you as the sound washes over you, for you know that both are reflections of your goddess.

In her name, you will fill your life with honor.

 _That_ is your duty.

**Author's Note:**

> Another second person POV one shot that's been rolling around in my head. I hope it was enjoyable.  
> Collage made by me using photos found on Pinterest.  
> Thank you for reading!


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